


Wasted Words Of Sad Refrain

by AnonAnton



Series: Wasted Words [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Dean Thinks He is Heterosexual, Depressed Castiel, Depression, Destiny, Drunk John Winchester, Gen, Good John Winchester, Human Castiel, Pining Dean, Pre-Relationship, Self-Harming Castiel, Suicide, Temporary Character Death, Time Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 05:31:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5572738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonAnton/pseuds/AnonAnton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel need to meet again, but one tiny event seems to have prevented this and tragedy has struck instead. </p><p>The angels need to ensure these two men meet and fall in love, so they send someone in to manipulate the time line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wasted Words Of Sad Refrain

**Author's Note:**

> This is another story from my self challenged [December Writing Challenge](https://anonymousantonym.wordpress.com/2015/12/05/december-writing-challenge), where I gave my self a number of lyrics to use as prompts for writing. Not all of 'em are fan fic, but this one clearly is! 
> 
> The angels in this fic are based on a combination of the Clayr from Garth Nix's Old Kingdom trilogy and Lu-Tze from Discworld, and not really on Supernatural angels at all. Although I'm certain you'll be able to spot Gabriel's presence.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Comments et Kudos always appreciated! 
> 
> Potentially pretty high on the triggers. Check the tags.

“Shit. What happened?” Dean stopped up short in front of the gas station. He had planned to grab some bread and coffee so he could get something to eat and drink in his new place before unpacking all his crap. But, now, he was wondering if he'd accidentally moved to some sort of gun crime hot spot. The gangly guy standing next to him in a Gas'n'Sip uniform turned a sorrowful face toward Dean. “This guy, he comes in for gas pretty often, he looked pretty grim today.” The guy's voice hitched. “He, uh- he filled his car up, but went in to the bathroom. Then er- it was about fifteen minutes later that I figured I ought to check on him y'know? And- There was blood all over the floor. Poor man had cut his wrists up real bad.” The man's haunted features scrunched up as his eyes filled with tears. “He seemed a decent guy you know? He's lived around here a long time. But, I guess there was just a lot going on under the surface. He always seemed so calm. Serene, like.”

Dean felt wounded inside for some reason. He hadn't even seen the guy. Just the ambulance, blue lights still flashing and the gurney with a black bag containing a body being wheeled into the open back doors. “I'm so sorry, man. What a waste. Wish I could have helped.” And, he meant it. He felt a nagging worry that maybe he would have been able to help the mystery man who had committed suicide in the toilet of a gas station. It was actually desperately sad, despite his usual cavalier attitude to the deaths of complete strangers.

The skinny guy looked up at him with red eyes. “Well, you know, none of us really knew him. It's sad and upsetting, but I'm sure he wouldn't want us all moping about the place.” Dean just looked at him unsure of what to say. He's pretty sure that the unknown guy would have wanted someone to care. He really felt as if it should have been him.

Having distinctly lost his appetite, he turned tail and slumped in to the seat of his Impala, filled to the gunwales with all of his life's possessions.

-

“What? No. That's wrong.”  
“What's happened?”  
“Castiel has died.”  
“No! That cannot be. He and Dean-”  
“I know. They must meet again. Where did the time line go wrong? Did the last Event occur as foretold?”  
“I'll try to See, now.”

-

Dean was not happy. That whiny, giant, idiot of a brother of his had forgotten his pie. Again.

“Stop bitching Dean” Sam, his brother yelled behind his shoulder as he strode away down the road. “You stop bitching. I'm not bitching. I just ask for pie, and you never get it. I mean who would bitch about that?” Dean muttered under his breath. They were in a hurry, in fairness to the enormous man in front of him. They needed to get back to campus so that Sam could introduce Dean to his new girlfriend, Jess. Dean wanted to meet her, but he didn't want to arrive sweating from running across the whole God damned city. Sam had taken him out for lunch in his favourite place, but the amber-eyed waiter had messed up their order, making them over half an hour late. And, he never got his pie.

“Fuck! Shit, sorry man!” Dean had walked right in to some other guy without even noticing. His obsession with pie was clearly at dangerous levels. The dude was on his ass on the side walk, scowling up at Dean. The man had blue eyes and angry, messy hair. Dean decided that yes, even his hair was angry at this point. Dean stuck his hand out to help the guy up, but the man, wearing a fitted black t-shirt and soft, ripped pale jeans, just pushed himself up off the ground.

 

“I'm sorry man, are you hurt? I was totally thinking about pie. And my total lack of it-” He shot at his younger bother who had returned from his ten-meter lead to find out where Dean had gone. “-and not looking where I was goin'.” The man laughed gently, a tiny smile lifting his closed lips and softening the angry glare he'd had. It was that point when Dean noticed his lips. “It's all right, I guess. I'm fine. Thank you.” Whoa, the dude had a deep voice. It sounded like he drink a bottle of whiskey and smoked fifty cigarettes a day.

“Dean. We need to go.” Oh yeah. Jess. “Yeah- Um. Sorry again, man. Uh-” Sam wrapped his massive meaty hands around Deans toned wrist and yanked him off down the street, Dean looking over his shoulder at the lip-pierced, DM wearing man he'd floored.

-

“Yes, they met each other as required.”  
“So something has gone awry since that Event. What Points were there between then and this Event?”  
“Four that I can See. Two each for Castiel and Dean.”  
“Let me See.”

-

“Castiel. Please sit.” Castiel slid in to the uncomfortable chair. “Thank you for taking the time to talk with me Ms.-” “Please Castiel, call me Naomi.” Cas shifts awkwardly in the chair. He isn't sure what the meeting is about, but if he's about to get fired, he can get behind that.

“I invited you here today, Castiel, to offer you a promotion. It would mean longer hours, you'll be dealing with much bigger and wealthier clients, but I think you can handle it. We would be able to offer you a substantial pay increase. You'll be handling more accounts and riskier investments. But, we want to put our faith in you, Castiel.”

Cas wanted to throw up. Could he refuse? He hated his job. He wanted to quit, but he couldn't just walk out, not any more, he was too old for job hunting with no skills under his belt. The last thing on his mind had been promotion. It looks as if he'll be pretty high up in the company now. Surely they can't trust him? He's just some punk in a suit faking it day after day. Faking enthusiasm, knowledge, intelligence, interest. And, he just feels numb, through and through.

“Naomi, I'm honoured. I would be very interested in taking up the role as soon as it becomes available.” It was almost a relief to answer. Even if, deep down, he knew that he should run and find a job in a bar or something. He shouldn't be trusted with such a role. He wasn't good enough.

-

“Hey sweet cheeks.”  
“I'm sorry. What?” Dean stared at the man who had just approached him with a mild case of 'what-in-the-ever-loving-fuck?' None the less, the rabbit in the headlights look the guy was wearing made him want to simultaneously laugh and get up and walk away.  
“I mean, has that ever worked on a dude who you didn't know for sure was gay? Or, y'know, for that matter on a guy at all? Or even a girl? Sweet Cheeks? Really?”  
“Uuuhh.” The man replied. Dean burst out laughing.  
“Ah, man. I'm flattered but I'm, y'know, straight. I advise a slightly more up to date chat up line next time, huh?” He flashed a wink and a grin at the guy to take the sting out of his words.  
“I thought we'd, um, had a moment?” Dean frowned. “You know?” The guy looked exasperated. “You were looking at me across the room?” Dean's frown deepened. Had he? The guy was- OK looking, he supposed. But he hadn't actively meant to look at him. If he had been then it was unconscious. But he's straight, so even if he had been looking then it didn't count. Right?  
“I think I was just staring at nothin' and you happened to be in the way. Sorry man. Kudos for giving it a shot though.” He grinned up at the guy again, who sighed, smiled and left a little awkwardly.

'That was weird,' he thought to him self. The guy was kinda good looking though. He shook his head to dispel that though and sipped at his beer again.

-

“Castiel. I'm sorry, but some one has to take the blame for this.” Castiel is sitting in the same uncomfortable chair he'd found him self in two years previously when he'd been offered the promotion, the worst event of his life to date. Although, he knew it, and the subsequent two awful years of horrible stress, vile people, bad luck and unfortunate takeovers were about to be superseded by this meeting.

“I am aware that this was not your fault per se, but as the team leader you are going to have to take the fall. We have to let you go in order protect the image of the company. Your team cannot lose that amount of investors money without consequences. Unfortunately I have to make you aware that the police are now involved and you will be centre to the investigation. There has been talk of corruption and we must protect our interests. I am sorry Castiel.”

Cas shifts awkwardly in the chair. He remembers a similar feeling when he was last in this office. He knows he ought to feel sad, upset, angry even. His underling, Crowley, had taken a risk with an investment, and had hidden the loss, covering up his mistakes with more money from the fund, until the loss had been noticed by a wealthy customer attempting to make a withdrawal. There had been nowhere near the amount in the fund that the client needed. It was an astounding amount of money to lose, in a grand total of three weeks. Cas hadn't even had the chance of his normal monthly review to find the error himself. He should definitely feel anger. He didn't. He felt numb.

Useless, broken and numb. There was no fear for the future, no remorse for losing his livelihood, no terror at probably being black listed against ever getting a job within his field again. Nothingness. A void. A knowledge that the world would turn without him and that he was a blip that would not be missed.

-

Dean sighed. He was about to get in the Impala and go. His key was in the lock, he just needed to drop it in to the real estate office before hitting the road out of town for good. “Hi Dad.”

“Dean!” John almost yelled down the phone line  
“Wha- Dad?” It had been ages since his Dad had called. Why now and why was he so perky?  
“Hey! Your mom's outta town, thought I'd talk to my eldest! What's up? How's the packing going?” Dean's eyebrows raised, his Dad was awesome, but not one to exactly chat on the phone.  
“Uh, it's all done. I'm literally trying to get to the office to drop off the keys now.”  
“Oh! Balls! I was convinced it was next week you were moving.” There was crunching down the line. “Ugh, Dad, are you eating chips at me?”  
John laughed loudly. “Yeah, sorry son. You're Mom's visiting her Dad so I thought I'd take advantage of the empty house. Got a beer, some snacks and the game's on.”  
Dean smiled. “Nice. Well, I don't wanna cut this short, but it's Saturday and the office closes in about thirty minutes, I gotta run if I want to make a move today.”  
“Sure thing kiddo. Take care of that car of mine on the drive. I'll talk with your mother when she's home and arrange to visit both you and Sammy soon huh?” Dean smiled.  
“Yeah Dad, that'd be awesome. And, when have I not taken care of Baby?”  
“Yeah, yeah. Safe drive and good luck Dean.”  
“Thanks Dad. Laters.”  
“Bye Son.”

Fumbling with the lock, he ran to the filled car and hopped in the front, throwing his snacks for the ride across the seat. Office, then a nice and easy eight hour drive.

Twenty minutes later he was cursing his father for making him miss the office hours, meaning he had to run and buy an envelope and a pen from the nearest place and drop the keys through the letterbox to return them.

Three hours after that he was cursing his Dad's phone call even more as he got stuck behind a jackknifed articulated lorry, one car drifting past at a time from each direction as the police directed the traffic.

-

“Ah. So you're to blame”

-

“It's buy one, get one free on 6-packs of beer tonight Mr. Winchester. Can I grab the other one for you?” John gives it a thought for a second. “Why the hell not!” He smiles. He hasn't had a night in without Mary for ages. He plans to watch the football and have a couple. Having another 6 in the fridge won't hurt. “Some extra chips too please.” “Sure thing!” The new amber-eyed sales attendant replies. It's not until he's driving home that he wonders how the new guy knew his name.

 

-

Dean sighed. He was making good time on the road. Dropping his keys off at the real estate office at been quick and simple. He had snacks. He really didn't want to have to pull over. “Hi Dad.”

“Dean...” John half sighed down the phone line, a sleepy tone to his voice.  
“Wha- Dad? Wait, hang on, I'm just pulling over now.” It had been ages since his Dad had called. Why now and why did he sound as if he'd been drinking?  
“'Kay. Your mom's outta town, thought I'd kick back with the game and a beer and talk to my eldest. How is the packing going?” Dean's eyebrows raised, his Dad hardly ever drank. This was bound to be amusing.  
“Uh, it's all done. I'm on the road right now. Actually moving as we speak...”  
“Oh balls! Isn't it next week?” There was a massive belch down the line. “Ugh, Dad!”  
John laughed loudly. “Sorry son. You're Mom's visiting her Dad so I thought I'd take advantage of the empty house. Got me some beers and some snacks”  
Dean smiled. “Nice. Well, I don't wanna cut this short, but I'd like to make it to my new place before midnight if that's cool?”  
“Sure thing kiddo. Take care of that car of mine on the drive. I wanna come and visit you and Sammy soon. Let me know when you're settled in huh?” Dean smiled, his Dad never arranged anything, he'd call his Mom when he was ready for a visit.  
“Yeah Dad, that'd be awesome. And, when have I not taken care of Baby?”  
“Yeah, yeah. Safe drive and good luck Dean.”  
“Thanks Dad. Laters. Oh, and don't drink too many more huh? Your hangovers are terrible remember?”  
“Ah, shut it boy. I can cope. Bye Son.” The line went dead to John's good natured sniggering.

Shoving some of his own snacks in to his face, Dean slipped the indicator on and pulled back out on to the road. It took about three minutes before he was cursing his Dad's phone call as he got stuck behind a recently jackknifed articulated lorry. The traffic was at a stand still and he could hear sirens in the distance, approaching fast.

-

Dean pulled up in the forecourt of the Gas'n'Sip. There was an ugly gold Lincoln Continental parked up in front of him at the next pump, but no one in sight.

He filled up and stomped in to the store. Coffee and bread, that's what he needed. Screw unpacking when he had caffeine and sustenance. He needed a piss too, before he drove to the real estate office to collect his keys.

He paid the gangly looking man behind the counter then moved off toward the bathroom. The door was locked. “Hey dude, this out of service or something?”  
The guy behind the counter looked worried. “No, a customer went in there about ten minutes ago. Not heard a peep since, bit worried to be honest.”  
Dean sighed, what a day. “You want I should kick it in?” The skinny dude rolled his eyes. “No! We got keys man!” Oh yeah. That would make sense.

The scene on front of the two of them when they got the door open was as sickening as it was frightening as it was saddening. But, for Dean, there was something more. He recognised the dead man on the floor surrounded by a pool of his own blood. That was the face that had haunted his dreams, both asleep and waking since he'd knocked him over in the street four years ago. This was the face that meant he hadn't been able to completely brush off his 'Gay Thing' in the bar a year or so ago. This was the face of the man who he may well have been able to picture kissing above any other.

And he was dead on the floor. DM's replaced with shiny black shoes. Piercings without jewellery. Scuffed jeans for black slacks. Tight black t-shirt for an ugly trench coat. Smothered in blood. Gaping holes in his wrists. Craft knife floating in the sticky mess.

Dean wanted to be sick.

He called an ambulance and the police instead.

Dean felt wounded inside, like he'd lost something. He didn't even know the guy. As he watched the ambulance, blue lights flashing, pull up, he turned to the gangly man who had tears streaming down his face. “What a waste. Wish I could have helped. I'm so sorry.” He felt tears spill over his own cheeks. He meant it, though. He did wish he could have helped the guy with angry hair, as he'd thought of him all these years. He felt a nagging worry that maybe he would have been able to save him.

The skinny guy looked up at him with red eyes. “Well, you know, none of us really knew him. It's sad and upsetting, but I'm sure he wouldn't want us all moping about the place.” Dean just looked at him unsure of what to say. He's pretty sure that the man would have wanted someone to care. He really felt as if it should have been him.

Not knowing what else to do, he turned tail and slumped in to the seat of his Impala. He felt something break inside of him before he could even get the car started. He crumpled in the seat and held his middle while he choked out half gasped sobs. This was meant to be a fresh start. His fresh start seems to have started with losing someone he didn't even know he'd needed.

-

“It's buy one, get one free on 6-packs of beer tonight Mr. Winchester, but, they're short dated, so they need drinking tonight. Can I grab the other one for you?” John gives it a thought for a second. “Why the hell not!” He smiles. He hasn't had a night in without Mary for ages. He plans to watch the football and have a couple, why would a couple more hurt? “Some extra chips too please.” “Sure thing!” The new amber-eyed sales attendant replies. It's not until he's driving home that he wonders how the new guy knew his name.

-

Dean sighed. He was making good time on the road. He couldn't have more than an hour to go. He was starving and exhausted. He really didn't want to have to pull over. “Hi Dad.”

“Dean...” John slurred down the phone line.  
“Wha- Dad? Wait, hang on, I'm just pulling over now.” It had been ages since his Dad had called. Why now and why did he sound as if he'd been drinking?  
“'Kay. You're a good son Dean. Your Mom's sssooo proud. Are ya pack'ng?” Dean's eyebrows raised, his Dad hardly ever drank. He was smashed!  
“Uh, moving today remember?”  
“Ballsss. Not next week?” There was a massive belch down the line, then a hic-up. “Ugh, Dad!”  
John snickered. “Sorry. Y'Mom's out. Got empty house! Got beers 'n snacks! 'N the game!”  
Dean laughed. “Nice. Well, I gotta make a move though dad. Go get a glass of water and some aspirin yeah? Your hangovers are painful.”  
“Ugh, shut it you.” Dean could hear john's smile down the line. “Take care of the car. Visit ya soon.” Dean sighed, his Dad never arranged anything, he'd call his Mom when he was ready for a visit.  
“Yeah Dad, that'd be awesome. Take it easy yeah?”  
“Yeah, yeah. Safe drive and good luck Dean.”

Looking mournfully at the empty snack wrappers, Dean slipped the indicator on and pulled back out on to the road. He'd need to stop for gas, bread and coffee before collecting the keys for his new place. Plenty of time though.

About ten minutes later he was cursing his Dad's phone call when he got stuck behind a decrepit caravan struggling along the winding single track road at a pathetic twenty miles an hour.

-

Dean pulled up in the forecourt of the Gas'n'Sip. There was an ugly gold Lincoln Continental parked up in front of him at the next pump, but no one in sight.

He filled up and stomped in to the store. Coffee and bread, that's what he needed. Screw unpacking when he had caffeine and sustenance. He needed a piss too, before he drove to the real estate office to collect his keys. Hopefully there'd be no more frigging caravans.

He paid the gangly looking man behind the counter then moved off toward the bathroom. The door was locked. “Hey dude, this out of service or something?”  
The guy behind the counter looked confused. “Uh, no? A customer just went in.”  
Dean sighed. It had been too long of a day to wait to pee. He gave up on the pretence of patience three minutes later and hammered on the door. “Come on man, desperate to piss here!” There was no answer. “Hey, man, could you ask him to hurry it up?” He shot at the skinny dude. He shuffled over. “Excuse me? Is everything OK in there?” No answer. “Do you need help? There’s an emergency cord over the syston...” No answer. Gangly guy and Dean looked at each other. “Got keys?” The man's eyes widened, but he nodded, biting his lip a little.

The scene in front of the two of them when they got the door open was as sickening as it was frightening as it was saddening. But, for Dean, there was something more. He recognised the still twitching man on the floor surrounded by a pool of his own blood, still slowly pulsing out of his mangles wrists. That was the face that had haunted his dreams, both asleep and waking since he'd knocked him over in the street four years ago. This was the face that meant he hadn't been able to completely brush off his 'Gay Thing' in the bar a year or so ago. This was the face of the man who he may well have been able to picture kissing above any other.

And he was lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. DM's replaced with shiny black shoes. Piercings without jewellery. Scuffed jeans for black slacks. Tight black t-shirt for an ugly trench coat. Smothered in blood. Gaping holes in his wrists. Craft knife floating in the sticky mess that was lightly disturbed by his quick shallow breaths.

Dean wanted to be sick.

He lurched forward and raised the man's arms, grappling at his belt to make a tourniquet instead.

Tears fell from his eyes and his hands shook as he yelled for the store assistant to call for an ambulance.

“It's OK, it's OK. I promise. I'll help. I won't let you die. I have to make it up to you for knocking you over that time. Remember? You can't skip out on that kinda apology right? You aren't gonna die. I won't let you. Can you hear me? You're not allowed to die. Keep breathing. Hey I'm just taking your belt off so I can stop the bleeding in this arm too OK? I'm not groping you, just, you know, saving your life. Come on, keep breathing, keep breathing, keep breathing. There, the bleeding's stopped OK? It's stopped. If you just keep breathing then you'll be OK. I got you. OK? Stay with me. Shit. Where's that fucking ambulance? You mustn't die.”

He slid in to silence, shifting the man out of his own blood, keeping his wrists elevated, belts wrapped tight around both of his elbows. How he'd managed to slice down both wrists was beyond Dean. He wasn't sure how long he stared at the closed eyes of the man on the floor in front of him. His own arms were shaking with fatigue from holding them aloft though. Finally he was shoved out of the way by a paramedic. The man was surrounded by quick and efficient people getting him up on to a gurney and out the door to the waiting ambulance.

Dean collapsed to his knees in to the pool of blood when they'd taken the man from the room.

The gangly man got him up and mopped him down with a manky old towel then led him outside. “Do you want to go with him? Do you- Do you know him?” Dean wasn't sure he could answer until he heard his won voice speaking. He sounded like someone else. “Not really. Met him once before. Not sure I should go with him. I need to get keys.” The assistant just looked at him. “Get in the ambulance.”

He nodded and did as he was told.

Dean felt wounded inside, like he'd come so close to loosing something, like he still might. He didn't even know the guy. As he bumped along in the ambulance, watching the man who had blood slicked angry hair, he thought of every sad refrain he hadn't yet said, and hoped to God that even thinking of them would be a wasted effort. He felt fresh tears spill over his own cheeks. Relief washed through him suddenly as he realised that he'd managed to get there, hopefully, just in time to save him. A nagging itch he hadn't realised he had disappeared.

A paramedic, who was monitoring the man's drip, looked up and caught his eye. “I think you got there just in time. Once we get in we'll be able to do a transfusion, and with any luck...” She trailed off. Dean didn't know whether he should hold on to the hope for not. He was glad the skinny man at the Gas'n'Sip had made him get in the ambulance though, this way if the man awoke he'd know that someone cared about him, and that that person was Dean.

-

“I- I think we're back on track. The transfusions look to succeed. Castiel and Dean meet.”  
“Good.”  
“There are so many Points between this Event and the next though! I've never seen so many parameters that must be met in order to ensure the correct path is taken.”  
“These men are important. They must live, meet and fall in love, for there is much ahead of them. Their time line is full of pit falls though. You must stay vigilant. There is much that can upset their fate.”


End file.
